Clementine
by Queen Bitterblue
Summary: Rossamünd and Europe find Sebastipole after the events of Lamplighter.


**Clementine**

**Leer** - _(__verb__)_ **1.** _That __which __a __Leer__, __noun__, __does __visually__. __That __is __to __say__, __the __act __of __sighting __either __lies __or __distance __or __both__._

**2.** _To __gaze __laciviously__._

Sebastipole met them on the road closer to the southern capital, a day and a half outside of Clementine. Had he not been inexplicably drawn to glance up at the lentumn as he strode past, he would not likely have seen Rossamünd at all, and their paths would have nearly, but not quite, crossed.

As it was, Rossamünd was engaged in listening to his mistress as she detailed the likeliest quarters where they might find "his Mister Sebastipole and the Marshall" and very nearly failed to see the object of their search waving a few yards back down the road.

"Miss Europe!" he interrupted.

She scowled. "Do not think, little man, that because you are my factotem you may-"

"Miss Europe, Mister Sebastipole is on the road just behind us and looks hard travel-stained."

She ordered the lentumn stopped, and sent Rossamünd out to speak with the man. Sebastipole smiled warmly as he approached. "Ah, Rossamünd. A delight to see you, though perhaps not in these surrounds. And where were you headed at such a speed and in such a coach?"

"We-that is, Miss Europe and I-have come to Clementine to rescue you and the Lamplighter Marshall. Though it seems you've already gotten away. And the Marshall? Is he well?"

"Clementine, dear boy, is not a safe place to lodge for long. But I see that you ride with the post and like could not be persuaded to return to Sinster. I would, if your Miss Europe will allow, travel with you and explain all as we go."

Europe raised her eyebrow when this was suggested directly to her, but undid the door to the lentumn and allowed both Rossamünd and Sebastipole to clamber aboard before the coach resumed its journey. Over the next hour or more, Sebastipole explained what he and the Marshall had encountered upon reaching the capital: endless waiting and clerks and returning later to see a different clerk. The Marshall had heard of the destruction of Wormstool and seemed to have lost quite a large portion of his vigor for it, and that was when the clerks finally deigned to see him. He was waiting in the city for further instructions from the Emperor, but had decided to send Sebastipole himself back to the Manse to grasp its fate under the Marshall Subrogat, as Sebastipole was one of few trustworthy men in the party and he required a trustworthy report. Josclyn had been left to act as his falseman and would be adequate, though he was not as finely skilled. However, upon setting out, Sebastipole had found that all carriages out of the city refused him passage, and all boats as well, and he had been forced to attempt to walk until the direct reach of the clerkship of the city had lessened and he might find more speedy passage.

Europe listened to this with an uneasy expression which gradually deepened to a frown. "You were correct, sir, in stating that this city is no safe harbour for our sort. Rossamünd is no longer serving with the lamplighters and therefore may be subject to some punishments for having left his service early." Then she explained how this had come to be, making sure to emphasize that she felt the claims as to his heritage were worthy of derision. They had left his old dormitory masters in Sinster to seek out more permanent lodgings for them all before coming to collect Sebastipole.

Sebastipole, for his part, listened with increasing gravity and, at the end, took Rossamünd's hand. "You served well and true as a lamplighter. It is my dearest wish that you should do so now as this beautiful lady's factotem."

Rossamünd blushed. He could not help it, having only lately begun to learn what was expected of him as Europe's factotem-things which felt entirely inappropriate to speak about in company such as this. Europe arched her eyebrow at him, daring him to speak a word of it, and he could very nearly feel the shock she might deliver straight into his most tender parts as punishment. Sebastipole remained silent, looking contemplative as they returned to the city he had left only that morning.

Their lodgings were to be at a wayhouse that had little to reccomend it from the outside. "I have stayed here many a time, little man, and their rooms are comfortable and warm. Do not turn your nose up or I shall send you to a billet box." Rossamünd stayed quiet.

The proprietor was a woman perhaps old enough to be Europe's mother, her face painted to look cheerful at all times and a wig of graceful blonde curls almost entirely obscuring the woman's own more drab hair, as if she had not had time to put it on properly. She smiled in an almost predatory manner when she saw Europe.

"It is a pleasure to have you return, Mi'lady. I see you have replaced your leer, but no matter. One leer is as good as another." At this, she leered. "And a find young man with you, as well. Not a word from me. You always have liked your pick of the young men. Shall it be the original suite? Yes? Lovely, follow me up this way."

The room was more than Rossamünd expected, given the shingled exterior in need of new paint and the clapboard hallways and stairwells they ascended. The door opened to reveal a large room painted pale blue with two very fluffy beds, possibly even larger and more luxurious than those they had occupied ages ago at the Harefoot Dig. There were two tall shelves full of books and a roaring fire, with tea set out and a cauldron waiting for treacle making, a jug of water nearby. A porter brought their collected luggage up to them, and then closed the door.

Sebastipole was first to speak. "My lady, this is far too great a space for myself and I will humbly retire to a billet, myself, so that you and Rossamünd may relax in peace."

She laughed, and the sound curiously both warmed and chilled Rossamünd. "My dear Mister Sebastipole. You shall do no such thing. There is room enough for all of us and I wish to treat you as my guest." She turned to Rossamünd. "Make my treacle, as I am in need. I think that perhaps tonight we shall forgo your usual lessons and resume them at a later time."

Rossamünd began to make the treacle, now easy and sure under his hands, and this provided him the opportunity to listen to the hushed conversation taking place at his back.

"Madam, you surely cannot be training him for such duties so young, he is but a _boy_-"

"I think, leer, you will find that I can do what I wish, as he is my factotem. Regardless, he is no boy."

"So you think the assertions of the wicked surgeon are correct, then? Why would _you_ keep him if you did?"

"Why, indeed? I do not think his baseless accusations have any merit. I merely disagree as to the transitional age of boyhood to manhood and where Rossamünd may lie in regards to that divide. He is no boy."

He really oughtn't be listening, but it was very difficult not to do when the potive was so familiar and at this point only required half of his attention. The tone Miss Europe spoke in harkened Rossamünd back to dimly lit rooms in other inns and wayhouses, very little clothing, and quite a lot of touching, both rough and gentle alike. The treacle done, he removed it from the flame and waited for it to cool slightly before pouring it into the bowl the staff had provided for such. Careful not to spill, he lifted it, stood, and brought it to the bed where Europe was now lounging in what seemed to be a calculated fashion, Sebastipole not looking at her from the other bed.

"Miss Europe, your treacle." He offered it to her.

"Ah, good, little man." She took it, and drank, and then sent Rossamünd to the kitchens to find dinner for the three of them. Not knowing quite what to think, he did as told.

After a dinner of quail pastie (which he had quite enjoyed), Rossamünd was surprised to see Europe beginning to undo her coat. Of course, she always did this when it was just the two of them in a room, but now Sebastipole was here, and she had said they would leave off his learnings for another night. He supposed she would need to remove some of her clothing to be able to sleep comfortably, but she hadn't even gone behind the screen in the corner to change. He watched her, nervously, and then stopped as it was rude to watch, and went to the marvellous shelves of books to better stare upon their expensive and important bindings. Doing so only made him redden, however, when he realized that the titles were all indelicate in nature and explicit in content. He turned to ask Europe a question and found her lounging back against the pillows and blankets as she usually did, largely undressed. Sebastipole continued to sit stiffly on the other bed, not looking at her.

"I have changed my mind, little man. I think we should have lessons after all."

Rossamünd was unsure if this was a very good idea, given Sebastipole's presence, but she had him very well trained by now and he began to neatly undress, folding his clothing as he went and then taking the cloth from the washbasin and going over every inch of his own skin. Miss Europe preferred him "not travel-stained and travel-smelling." Once this was done, he walked to the bed and stood at its side, his back to Sebastipole.

"Ready so soon? Why, little man, you always are a delightful surprise. Come, now. I should like your mouth's attentions upon me."

As Rossamünd dutifully, gladly licked and sucked at her breasts, which tickled the inside of his mouth with uncontrolled sparks, he noticed Sebastipole shifting out of the corner of his eye. The leer watched, now, openly, as Rossamünd's mouth moved lower, hovering over the wet heat between the fulgar's legs before she put her hand in his hair and _pushed_ him down. More sparks into his mouth as his tongue found her clitoris and licked eagerly. His own eyes were closed, now, but Rossamünd could feel Sebastipole watching. He heard the rustle of cloth and determined the other man was removing his clothing, a curious event.

Europe's laugh bubbled up from the same deep place as the groans Rossamünd had only lately been eliciting, and her grip on his hair lessened enough for him to lift his head to see the cause of her laughter. Sebastipole sat on the opposite bed, his face intent, and stroked his clearly hard cock as he gazed at the pair of them.

"I knew you would come to see things my way, leer. Rossamünd may be small, but he is _not__small_, is that not right, little man?" Rossamünd blushed and nodded.

"Yes, Miss Europe."

Sebastipole spoke with a tone Rossamünd had never heard from him, something rough and cracked and which made his blood run all the hotter. "Lady, you cannot force the boy to do anything which he does not want-"

"And I do not force him. Do I, little man?"

"No, Miss Europe."

"Ah, see there. He does what he wishes to do for love of me, not because I enforce any punishments with cruel sparks. You think so ill of me, sir, to assume that I must do so?"

"Only due to his age, madam. Though perhaps I may have fewer complaints were I to know the joys to which you have been brought."

Europe gazed at him shrewdly for a long time, and Rossamünd was unsure what he was meant to be doing. Sebastipole's hand kept moving its slow circuit through the pause, captivating his gaze. "Alright. Rossamünd, please move back so I may stand." He did as told, and she stood, removing the last wisps of undergarments from her person. Then she turned, and arranged herself upon Sebastipole's lap so that Rossamünd could see the older man's cock slowly disappear into the depths of Europe's cunt. Her back rested against Sebastipole's chest, and the leer took liberties with her breasts that Rossamünd had surely never dared. She only sighed in response, lifting her hips once and allowing them to fall. "Come here, little man, and kneel between our legs. You know what to do with _me_."

He stood, and then knelt between Sebastipole's feet on the floor, looking up into Europe's delicate and glistening cunt stretched so cruelly around the leer's cock. Having never been close to another man's cock previously, Rossamünd was unsure how to treat it, and decided it was best to ignore it altogether. Instead, he focused his attentions on Europe's clitoris, and began to lick again.

Under their combined ministrations, it was a prodigiously short time before Europe's back arched and wetness began to surge into his mouth along with a small wave of shocks, causing Rossamünd to groan and shudder. "Enough!" he heard her say, and he pulled back to await instruction. "Move, little man, so I may dismount. If the leer has requests to make of you, he shall need make them himself. I need to rest a time." Rossamünd stood and held her hands as Europe removed herself from Sebastipole's lap, and helped make her comfortable on her bed again.

"Rossamünd." He turned to look at Sebastipole, his cock still hard-much like Rossamünd's own-but shining in the lamp light from the damp of Europe. "Come here, boy. Kneel again." Obedient, Rossamünd did so. "Now you must remove all traces of your mistress from me. Use your tongue and be thorough."

Being thorough was something Rossamünd had become extremely proficient in, and he didn't find the sensation of his tongue dragging across the older man's cock unpleasant by any means. Licking the tip elicited a hiss and a taste of salt that was similar and dissimilar to the taste of Europe's cunt.

"You are a quick learner, my boy. Now take as much as you can into your mouth-yes, all at once. Good lad." This was more physically challenging than any task Europe had put him to so far, but Rossamünd approached it with an equal amount of dedication and gladness to be helping relieve his friend and mistress alike. He could feel the tip of Sebastipole's cock touching the back of his throat, and it made him swallow hard. Sebastipole let out a choked noise, and Europe laughed brightly from her bed. "Very, ungh, good. Good. Do that again." Rossamünd did as told, and was rewarded with a hot liquid moving down his throat-the man's comings, Europe had called it. He swallowed willingly, not wanting to spill. Miss Europe did not like it if he didn't clean up the messes he made.

As Rossamünd shifted back onto his heels to smile at Sebastipole, and then over his shoulder at Europe, Sebastipole spoke. "Yes, madam. I do see why you have taken him on as your factotem after all."

Europe's voice was a silken purr that left Rossamünd more willingly trapped than any pet. "Oh, yes. I told you, sir. And I doubt that we are quite finished, for tonight."


End file.
